Randee arose the next morning and made coffee before Marsh began stirring. She had no way of knowing that he had been awake a long time, but had remained still and silent to allow her more sleep after her restless night. Without putting on his shirt and boots, Marsh vanished into the trees and bushes to her right. Randee sipped the dark liquid as she watched his departure. He had glanced at her, then left camp without speaking. Perhaps he was still annoyed with her about last night, and he had every right to feel that way. She had been hateful and rude to him when he was only being kind and … passionate. She had refused to answer his question and explain her crazy behavior. Overwrought and muddle-headed at the time, she had told him, “We’re both loners, Durango, so let’s keep our noses out of each other’s private affairs. I appreciate your concern, but I don’t need a manly shoulder to cry on or a strong arm to protect me. I can take care of myself; if not, then it’s time I learn how. This is a business arrangement, nothing more. Unless you want to begin mutual revelations by telling me all about the mysterious Marsh Logan alias the Durango Kid. But frankly, I don’t think strangers should trade secrets.”
Randee sighed heavily and berated herself for her silly conduct. They had been getting along so well; now, she had probably ruined their budding friendship. Ranting like a wild woman was no way to open up a quiet man! She had nearly had him convinced that she made a perfect partner; then, she had behaved like a spoiled child or shrewish female! Her turbulent mind flashed back to last night. Stars above, how that man could kiss! She got all hot and tingly just recalling their amorous bout, one cut too short because of Payton’s memory and intrusion. She had left Kansas and that beast behind, but he still journeyed within her. Since she could not forget him or deal with him at this time, she had to come to terms with his lingering spirit. He had almost ruined her life in Kansas; she could not allow him to do the same here in Texas.
Dee’s baby was due in mid-August, and today was May twenty-fifth. She knew her mother was safe and well, because the Carsons had received two recent letters from Dee: one shortly after Randee’s arrival, which the Carsons had answered without betraying Randee’s presence, and one just before the Carsons’ deaths— which, fortunately for Randee, had been answered immediately. Hopefully, since Payton hadn’t appeared at the ranch, he and her mother believed she was elsewhere. For a while, no correspondence would be expected or missed. That should give her time to seek justice for the Carsons and to find another place to begin the new life she wanted.
Randee was relieved that her assumption about her mother’s safety had been correct, and that her reluctant silence had paid off. It distressed her to know that her mother was lying every night next to a husband who was so evil and deceitful. Yet, self-sacrifice could extend only so far, even for loved ones.
Randee fretted over what Marsh was thinking and feeling today after her contradictory actions last night. She had reached out to him, then angrily rejected him. He had responded ardently, but for what reason? Because she was Randee? Or because she was an available woman who was tempting him? If they became lovers, how would she feel when she watched him ride out of her life after this task was ended? Was a brief blaze of passion with him worth what it would cost her later?
Randee squirmed nervously. She knew she would feel better if she washed the dirt and oil from her hair, so she grabbed a strip of drying cloth and headed to the river with her soap and clean clothing. Since it was daylight and cool at this early hour, she kept on her gown as she waded into the narrow river. It was chilly, but she adjusted gradually to the water temperature. She ducked and wet her long flaxen hair, then lathered it. She washed it twice and bathed before climbing onto the grassy bank, refreshed and calmed.
Marsh saw her from their camp and observed her. He knew she hadn’t been after his life history last night; she had simply wanted him to back off from his curiosity and painful questions. He hadn’t spoken upon arising this morning, to give her time to clear her sleep-fogged mind and to break the silent strain herself. For certain, some ghost was riding her back and she didn’t know how to get it off. There had to be clues in his words to her last night, because she had reacted strangely to them and they had triggered a nightmare. Whatever was haunting her caused her to resist his touch, perhaps any man’s touch. Yet, she had responded passionately to him. Yes, to him. She had murmured his name several times, not Brody Wade’s or another man’s. That fact pleased and warmed him, more than he found comfortable, because it meant he was as drawn to her as she was to him. How long could he master his emotions, when she was experiencing the same ones?
The realization that some foe had, or had had, a grip on this woman annoyed him. If it was possible, maybe she would let him help her get free of that trouble after they completed their mission. But unless he won her trust, she would never expose her problem to him, and it could also intrude on their task if left unresolved. That thought warned him not to allow this breach between them to continue.’ Perhaps he should take the first step toward peace in case she was too proud or afraid to do so. He headed for where Randee was standing, a wet gown clinging most provocatively to her shapely body. She was bent forward drying her hair when Marsh joined her to ask playfully, “What are you doing, woman? You bathed last night.”
Randee wrapped the cloth around her hair and straightened. She smiled and replied, “I couldn’t wash my hair last night because I don’t like to go to bed with it wet on such a chilly night. I figured it could dry while we’re riding today. Am I messing up our schedule?”
“Nope,” he answered just as pleasantly. “I’ll get breakfast ready while you dress.”
Randee glanced down and noticed how the soaked garment was stuck to her flesh, outlining it perfectly and immodestly. She blushed, a reaction that was unusual for her. She hastily picked at the material to loosen its grip. When Marsh chuckled, she looked up at him.
“Sorry, Miss Hollis, but you look most appealing in that garb. I’ll get back to camp before I forget we’re practically strangers.”
Randee watched him turn and leave, grinning broadly. She couldn’t help but smile. He could be such a gentleman, and such an enticing rogue. This was a man of many traits and, so far, she liked them all. She surmised why he had approached her and was delighted by his generous overture, They had been alone for days and under most stimulating circumstances; yet, he had not. pressed his advantage. She liked his self-control, and she liked him, very much.
She slipped into the bushes to dry off and dress. Removing as much water as possible from her hair, she let it hang free to dry. Then she gathered her belongings and joined Marsh at the fire. After tossing her wet gown over a lowhanging branch, she sat down opposite him. He handed her a cup of coffee and smiled again as his gaze lazily traveled over her from head to foot. He was still shirtless and barefoot, and he looked so at ease with her. His uncombed ebony hair was mussed sexily, with wisps of it teasing over his forehead. Her tension and troubles faded from mind and body. She felt good. She felt alive. And she realized it was this man’s effect on her.
Heavens, his eyes looked so blue and compelling against his dark skin. They were expressive eyes, which often talked louder and more often than he did. Her gaze followed the furry black hair that covered his chest, narrowed over his ribs, then widened again around his navel. He was lean and muscular, and his body was “well-toned. Her appreciative gaze returned to his handsome face. As he absently stroked his jawline while he cooked their meal, she suddenly realized he hadn’t, shaved the night before.
“Do you want me to fetch you some water to heat for shaving?” she offered politely.
His gaze came up to meet hers. He grinned as he rubbed his whisker-rough jawline. “I’ll skip it until we camp tonight, but thanks.”
Randee grasped a handful of her hair and squeezed it tightly, holding it for a moment before repeating the action on another area. Marsh’s brow lifted inquisitively, and she laughed, “It keeps my hair from being so straight,” she explained without his asking.
He watched the areas wave and curl beneath her artful touch. She took sections along the edges and rolled them over and over, and her tawny locks hardly moved when she released them. Using her fingers, she fluffed her shorter bangs and made them feather across her forehead. As he handed her a plate of food, he jested, “I’ve never seen anything like this before. You women use all kinds of beauty tricks to ensnare us men. Mighty interesting, partner.”
Randee laughed before retorting, “I can see you’ve never had a sister or a sweetheart, Durango, or you’d know that bunch-curling is quick and easy.”
“Especially on the trail,” he added mirthfully. As he ate his meal, his amused gaze remained on her. She looked so lovely and calm this morning. No trace of her troublesome night lingered in her mood or appearance. He hoped it was his companionship, as hers had a wonderful effect on him. He had never found being around another person so easy and enjoyable, and he wasn’t ready for this feeling to leave any time soon. His mother would have liked Randee, and he was sorry those two could never meet.
Twenty minutes later they broke camp and packed up their possessions. Marsh walked around her before she could mount the chestnut mare, eyeing and touching her hair. “I have to see if this worked,” he informed her as she twisted to follow his movements.
He halted on her right and studied the two-inch scar before her ear. He estimated it to be around four or five years old. It was wider than a knife wound, but hadn’t cut deeply enough to cause permanent damage to her facial muscles. Nor was it an ugly or repulsive scar.
Aware of his intense scrutiny, she related the story of how she had gotten the scar, “Since you’re too nice or afraid to ask, Marsh, I’ll volunteer the information. In happened in ’67 while I was making and setting traps for ground squirrels that were pestering us. My father didn’t like to kill anything if it wasn’t necessary, so we trapped them and took them miles away before releasing them to find new homes. I was concentrating so hard on my task that I didn’t realize trouble was approaching; at least I thought it was trouble,” she remarked with a laugh. “I heard something strange and looked up to see this huge furry beast running toward me. I’d only seen pictures of wolves and knew they were dangerous creatures. When he leaped at me, I panicked and fell backward, and the hatchet in my hand caught me here,” she said, running her finger over the white line.
When she didn’t continue, he asked anxiously, “What happened then? Did he attack you or did you slay him?”
She lowered her voice to a serious tone. “He jumped on me and attacked me … with a thousand licks,” she finished amidst merry laughter. “He belonged to a new neighbor and had been raised from a cub. He was only a playful wild pet. Of course, he almost got shot when my father heard the first scream and came running to help. He saw me tumbling around with a big wolf and blood flying everywhere. It’s amazing how much a little place like this can bleed.”
“You were mighty lucky, Randee; wolves can rip flesh to pieces.”
“I’m afraid Bo was in more peril than I was. He ran free once too often and was shot by mistake. It was sad to lose him. Sometimes he went hunting with a group of us and he saved me from danger several times. He always knew where the snakes and pitfalls were located. Someday I’d like to get a good dog like Bo was.”
“When you settle down, you can,” he remarked.
She looked into the distance and murmured, “I hope so, if I’m ever allowed to remain in one pla … .” She halted and said, “You ready?”
“Let’s ride, partner,” he agreed as he mounted his black stallion named Midnight. As they galloped over rolling hills, Marsh speculated over her slip. If “nobody’s coming to look for me” as she’d told him, why was she on the run? Why was” she teamed up with a famous gunslinger in pursuit of a savage band of outlaws? It was hardly the way to go unnoticed for very long. Where had she gotten the ten thousand dollars? She had skills which few men, much less a woman, possessed. Could she be a criminal, or from a family of criminals? Was she truly Randee Hollis? Truly the Carsons’ niece? How had she become the only survivor of an Epson raid? There were many curious things about this beautiful vixen, things he wanted and needed to know. It sounded as if someone was pursuing her and tormenting her. That was bad. He wanted to probe her meaning, but let it pass for now.
At the Red River stage depot, the Epson Gang was eyeing the unmistakable remains of an Indian attack. Since the station was already destroyed and no signs of rebuilding were in progress, their job in this area was over, at least for the present. They rested for a while, then left for the next target, passing over an attack which would have provided Marsh and Randee with a valuable clue to their motive ….
Randee and Marsh made good progress that day as the raid sites were further apart in this sparsely populated area where large ranches dominated the open range. At each stop, Marsh instructed her on how to gather clues. She was amazed by the man’s knowledge and skills. He explained how to detect the age of a campfire from the condition of the coals, and how to date someone’s passing, by broken grass or scratches on rocks. He showed her how to read tracks from their depth, clarity, and style. She listened closely and intently.
“Most blacksmiths have their own marks, if you know what to look for. That clue can tell you where the rider had his horse reshod, and it helps you stay on the right man’s trail when tracks overlap on roads. If you know an area, Randee, you can judge when a track was made by the moisture in the depression, or the lack of it. If there’s been a sandstorm lately, but the track doesn’t have any dirt inside, then you know your rider passed by after the storm. The same is true with rain and snow. When you have blades of grass trampled, you can check the breaks on them for moisture. If you get really good at it, you can tell a horse’s size and its rider’s weight from the depth of the impression. It all comes with time and experience.”
Around two o’clock, they heard gunshots in the distance. Randee watched Marsh halt to listen and to speculate. She remained quiet and alert while he made the decision to ride that way.
“Let’s take it slow and easy, partner,” he cautioned her.
“I’m glad you aren’t suggesting I remain behind again. How else can I learn anything and gain experience if I don’t get involved?”
He glanced at her and grinned as he admitted, “I want to, boss lady, but I know it’s useless. Besides, I might have need of your skills. From those sounds, more than a few guns are at work. Close your eyes and listen a moment. You’ll see what I mean.” Marsh observed her, knowing he had to discover just how good she was, even by thrusting her into danger. Watching her, somehow he just couldn’t believe she was wicked or guileful. Whatever trouble she left behind in Kansas couldn’t have been her fault.
Randee obeyed. She smiled as she opened her eyes and said, “You’re right; each gun has a different voice. I’ve never noticed that before. I can learn so much from you, Marsh Logan; you’re a genius.”
“Not really, partner. I just like to stay alive and healthy. And I’ll keep you that way, too.” Her adoring smile and genuine compliment warmed him from head to toe, and he wanted to yank her into his arms for a hug and a kiss. Mercy, what a time to be distracted!
They rode toward the sounds, which grew louder as they neared the trouble. Marsh halted her again for a moment to study the situation. “No chances, Randee Hollis. Understand?” he ordered, then galloped off ahead of her to challenge the five bandits who were trying to stop and rob the stage from Fort Worth to El Paso.
Randee and Marsh came up behind the bandits before they realized they were under attack. Marsh used the butt of his rifle to knock one masked man from his saddle. Because he hadn’t fired an alerting shot, it allowed them more time to get closer to the other bandits. Randee followed his lead by skillfully lassoing another man and dragging him from his horse. By that time, the people on the stage realized that help had arrived, not more bandits.
Marsh wounded two men and Randee disabled the fifth man. The stage halted, and the driver hopped down to help his rescuers with the prisoners. He shook Marsh’s hand and slapped him on the back..
“We’re awfully glad to see you, mister. I thought we were goners for sure. They winged the guard before we caught wind of ‘em.”
Marsh and the driver bound the men securely while Randee was retrieving the two men who had fallen a ways back. As their horses had run off, she made them walk toward the waiting stage while she held a gun on them. Slightly injured, neither bandit challenged her skills and loaded gun. The few passengers aboard stepped from the coach and thanked Marsh. As the driver took care of the guard’s wound, Marsh chatted with a small boy who was very frightened.
He hunkered down before the boy and smiled, his blue eyes and white teeth enhancing his awesome appearance. He was dressed in black today and his face bore a two days’ growth of dark whiskers; yet, he exuded gentleness. “It’s over now, son, so you can relax. We have those bandits all tied up and ready for jail.” Marsh saw the lad sniffle and wipe at his tears. He knew the boy was embarrassed by his weakness. Marsh stood and pulled a silver coin from his pocket, then squatted again. He held out the gift and said, “Take this lucky coin and keep it with you all the time. When trouble strikes, hold it tightly in your hand and say, ‘I won’t be scared until I know I have good reason.’ It’s worked for me for years. My papa gave it to me when I was your age and it taught me real courage. You keep it and practice with it. I bet the next time I see you, you’ll be braver than I am.”
The boy accepted the coin, stared at it, and clutched it tightly. He looked up at Marsh, who had stood, and smiled. “Thanks, mister. I won’t ever cry again, not with my lucky coin to protect me.”
Randee watched the child’s mother gaze into Marsh’s eyes with a look which revealed more than gratitude. Twinges of jealousy and annoyance nipped at her as Marsh returned the smile and genially chatted with the overly friendly female. When the woman rested her hand on Marsh’s arm and asked if he would please escort them to the next relay station, Randee felt as if cat’s claws were going to spring out of her fingertips to protect her property from that hungry creature. That humorous thought caused Randee to smile and to relax. She had no claim on Marsh Logan, so he could behave any way he desired with the woman, whether she was a widow or somebody’s wife.
Marsh called Randee over to him and remarked to everyone, “This is my partner, a real lady who knows how to handle any kind of trouble. She deserves more credit than I do. If she hadn’t been with me today, I couldn’t have handled all those bandits.”
“I saw how you lassoed that varmint, miss. Never seen better riding and roping in my life,” the driver praised her.
The woman looked Randee over, and gave the impression that she considered the blonde to be anything but a lady. She smiled falsely, but did not add her thanks to the others’ gratitude. Randee glanced at the woman as if she were trivial, but smiled at the little boy.
Marsh suppressed his amusement with the two women. He told the driver, “I’ll help you tie them tightly to the roof, Sam, but we can’t ride that far out of our way. I’m afraid we’re running very late as it is. The relay station is less than ten miles away. I think you can make it that far without more trouble.”
The guard agreed, “We’ll be fine, Sam. This arm’s better now.”
The woman earnestly implored Marsh to escort them, making subtle overtures right in front of everyone. Marsh smiled at the boy, tousled his sandy hair, and said, “Sorry ma’am, but we’re on a tight schedule. The station isn’t much further down the road. If there’s more trouble, this fine lad will protect you. Isn’t that right, son?”
The boy grinned broadly at Marsh’s confidence in him, and nodded his head vigorously. His.small chin was raised proudly, and his little chest was stuck out bravely. But the attractive woman frowned when she did not get her way, and Randee saw how unpleasant it looked to show one’s peevishness in public. Randee exchanged smiles with the little boy as Marsh secured the prisoners to the stage roof. She was aware of the woman’s envious stare as the men worked above them. To help out, Randee gathered three horses and tied their reins to the back of the stage, placing her out of the woman’s sight. Marsh helped the passengers into the coach and waved to them as it pulled away.
Marsh suggested, “Let’s round up those other two horses and unfetter them before we get under way again. I don’t want them running loose with bridles and saddles. They didn’t look too well-kept. Maybe they’ll join up with a wild herd and enjoy their freedom.”
Randee concurred with his compassion. After the task was done, she mischievously eyed him up and down, then burst into laughter. “I wonder what those people would have said if they’d known that their champion was the notorious Durango Kid. I hope it doesn’t disappoint you that not everyone recognizes such a famous man.” She and Marsh grinned at each other. “Every time I turn around, you amaze me again. You were very good with that little boy. What an unexpected and surprising man you are, Marsh Logan. You can be as hard as a rock or as soft as cotton. I wonder, are you for real? Or is this only a clever act to keep me off balance?”
“Actually it’s a cunning trick to win you over to my side,” he teased, licking his lips seductively.
“Then you’re wasting time and energy, Marsh, because I’ve been on your side since you knocked me down in Wadesville.”
The black-clad man chuckled. “The same is true of you, Miss Hollis, one amazement after another. You were good back there, very good.” He had been more than pleased with her riding, shooting, wits, courage, and assistance. “I don’t have any more worries about you.”
“I wish I could say the same” she replied, looking sad.
“What do you mean?” he inquired confusion.
She disclosed pointedly, “We both know you would like nothing better than to leave me behind as soon as you don’t need me anymore.”
Marsh edged his horse closer to hers and met her challenging gaze. His hand went behind her head and pulled it forward. Before kissing her passionately, he devoured her with his ravenous, gaze and said, “Then make certain I need you all the time.”
After he released her, he instantly galloped away. The shaky female stared at his back as her fingers stroked her tingling lips. She inhaled deeply to slow her racing heart, then took off after him.
Around five, they halted to rest and water the horses at a spot where a seep was located near a pile of large rocks. Randee strolled around while Marsh leaned against a heavy boulder and watched her. She felt his gaze locked on her, but pretended not to notice it or him. After a time, she turned and said, “You must travel a lot to know this state so well. Do you ever get tired of moving around all the time?”
“I haven’t yet,” he replied, dreading this line of talk.
She tried another question to draw him out, “Do you ever get tired of being provoked into gunfights? Tired of killing men who only want to prove they’re faster and better than the Durango Kid?”
Taking his eyes from her for the first time since they halted, Marsh removed his hat and tossed it on a nearby rock. He rubbed his sleeved arm over his forehead to remove the sweat that was beading there. He hated to deceive her, but he was only pretending to be the noted gunslinger. Like it or not, for now, he had to continue that ruse in case she was captured and questioned by anyone. He met her direct gaze and answered as honestly as possible, for himself, and the real Durango Kid, “I’ve never killed any man who didn’t deserve to die more than I did. A man in my position can’t turn his back on a challenge and walk away without being called a coward or getting shot in the back. Neither one appeals to me, Miss Hollis. Believe it or not, I don’t go looking for gunfights, but I don’t run from them either. I earned this stupid reputation by defending myself, not by searching for trouble and excitement. I guess trouble has a sneaky way of finding me and shoving me into a corner.” He looked at her and hinted, “Surely you realize that most colorful legends are half fiction.”
Randee detected the hesitation in Marsh’s gaze, voice, and reply. She felt that he was responding in the manner which he presumed she expected, and she found that intriguing. “Fiction or not, it can get you killed one day. How long can a gunslinger of your status hope to win every challenge? Tell me, Marsh, when the senses and skills dull, what happens to men like you?”
He stared her in the eye and answered too casually, “We usually wind up as a notch on somebody else’s gun.”
“Knowing that doesn’t bother you?” she probed worriedly.
“It hasn’t yet,” he replied, trying to sound nonchalant.
“Does the constant threat of death make your life more exciting?”
Marsh chuckled in an attempt to relax her. “It certainly gets the blood to rushing and the body to moving. Yes, Randee, I guess it does,” he admitted. “Doesn’t danger have the same effect on you?”
“Danger, yes, but terror and death, no,” she told him.
“But aren’t they one and the same?” he reasoned. “People face death every day, in every challenge, in every peril, in every breath. Think about those stage passengers. They could have been killed if we hadn’t of happened along at the right moment. You could have caught a deadly cold today from a chill, by washing your hair. At any time you could get thrown or trampled by your horse. We could bump into the Epson Gang any day and provoke them into killing us. You could have been shot in that bank holdup. Or killed … during a stage robbery on your way to Red River. There could be a rattler ready to strike you from, beneath that rock. Death surrounds us every moment, woman. That’s why I live from one minute to the next.”
“Are you ever afraid of anything?” she asked.
“I try not to be. And if I am, I try not to show it,” he admitted.
Randee murmured reflectively, “I would be terrified if I could be gunned down at any moment. Why aren’t you?”
Marsh shrugged. “Terror keeps one on alert, Miss Hollis, and being alert keeps one alive. You don’t think it’s exciting to face stimulating challenges each day?”
“I don’t find terror or continuous fear exciting or stimulating, especially when there’s nothing you can do to conquer it and it feeds on you every, day and night like a ravenous vulture. If fear is only a temporary condition, you have hope and you know it’ll be over soon. But if there’s no end or relief in sight, that’s terror. Surely an outlaw experiences terror each day. He’s always running scared of the law. He can’t ever let his guard down and relax fully The terror of capture and hanging is with him every moment. Is that exciting? I think not, Marsh. Surely it’s much the same with a famous gunslinger. Any day you could get pushed over that skinny mark which separates the law and crime; then you’d be running for your life instead of drifting by choice. Would your life still be exciting and stimulating?”
“Like I said, Randee, I live for today. At least that’s true for now. This is me, woman. I’m not ready or willing to change, so I’ll have to take my risks. Just like you, I have problems to solve.”
Randee couldn’t ask him to explain, not after telling him to keep his nose out of her private affairs. “Sometimes the only way to fight a problem is to retreat. Don’t you ever back away from a battle or opponent? Have you never felt that the other man was stronger and that you had lived your last day?”
“I guess I’ve always felt it was better to die than to feel helpless. Nothing sticks in a man’s craw worse than being a coward. And nothing is more unforgivable than forcing a man to look like one.”
“Sometimes there’s no way around being or feeling helpless, but that doesn’t make you a coward. Maybe you don’t think much about your survival and future because you have only yourself to consider.”
“That’s why I stay alone, so I won’t have any worries to slow me down or control my actions. I don’t want to be responsible for another person’s life. Considering the fact that my parents are dead because their son was off living his own life, should tell you I’m not good at protecting anyone but myself.”
“That sounds awfully pessimistic to me, Marsh.”
He politely refuted, “I’m only being realistic, Miss Hollis. A pessimist is always gloomy, and thinking the worst of everything and everybody. I’m not like that, am I?”
She reluctantly told him, “I must admit, you appear totally satisfied with yourself and your hazardous lifestyle.”
“Do I hear a bit of resentment in your tone?” he teased.
“It’s more like envy, Mr. Logan. Or should I say, Durango?”
“I guess it’s according to which man and life you envy.”
Randee sighed heavily, then asked, “Aren’t you both the same?”
“Every person has many sides, Randee, including you. If you had a choice, which man would you prefer as your partner? Be honest.”
Without hesitating, she disclosed, “Marsh Logan.”
He looked surprised. “Why?” he asked, highly intrigued.
“Because hell stay alive longer than the Durango Kid, and I need my partner around for a long time.” Marsh studied her for a while and felt her pull on him. He could tell that she was as tense as he was, but she never broke their interlocked gaze. He smiled almost sadly and revealed, “Would you be shocked if I told you I wish I were only Marsh Logan again? That isn’t possible, Randee, and never will be. Too much has happened since I left home.”
Randee nodded and replied, “I know what you mean, Marsh.” She stretched and yawned as if very tired. “We should get moving, or we won’t make that wonderful campsite you mentioned earlier. Oh, yes,” she added, “None of those bandits were gang members.”
“Are you certain?” he asked, dropping the other subject as she had.
“I’m more than positive they weren’t at the Carson Ranch. I thought of something else this afternoon. Do you think those squatters on Bill Sharp’s ranch were gang members in disguise? That would be a perfect way to hang around until everyone arrived for the attack.”
“I’m lost.” He confessed ignorance of her meaning.
“The day before I left Wadesville, Brody was called to the Sharp’s Ranch to handle trouble with squatters. That next morning, the Epson Gang attacked there. Could it be coincidental?”
“Probably, but it wouldn’t hurt to start checking for a pattern there. I’ll mark it on our list of clues. Randee,” he started hesitantly, “I want you to know you have nothing to fear from the Durango Kid.”
“I know, Marsh, thanks. Will you promise me one thing?”
He laughed. “Another promise?” he jested, winking at her.
Undaunted, she pressed, “Promise me you’ll remain Marsh Logan as much as possible on this journey.”
“If you knew what he was like, you might not ask that.”
“Do it anyway” she entreated.
“For a long time I tried to be anybody except Marsh Logan; now you seem to like him better than who I am today. That worries me.”
“It shouldn’t, because you’re more Marsh Logan than you realize. Your father would be very proud of you and what you’re doing.”
“Would he, Randee?” Marsh asked a little sarcastically. If he had been home where he belonged, his parents would be alive today! And he would have been home if his father hadn’t driven him away! Marsh could still recall the anguish, rebelliousness, disappointment, and resentment which had filled him years ago. Thank God, he had learned the truth two years past about his father’s treachery in ’56, even though the old man had died believing his son still hated and disrespected him, died believing Marsh was “a bad apple.” Maybe that was why he hated apples and could hardly get them down, because they symbolized what his parents died believing about him.
As if knowing what the man was thinking and agonizing over, Randee said, “You’re wrong, Marsh. You would be dead, too, if you’d been home that day. Don’t let the past rip you apart and force you into death’s eager embrace. You’re too good to die, and it isn’t too late to change your life. You aren’t the heartless and selfish person you claim to be, Marsh Logan, so stop trying to convince me you are. If you’re afraid that by being yourself you’ll provoke me into chasing after you, I promise you have nothing to worry about where I’m concerned.” She mounted up and rode off before he could argue or agree.
They traveled until darkness had almost encompassed them. Marsh showed her where to camp, then unloaded their possessions and rode off to check out the security of the area. Randee prepared the fire and started their evening meal. When Marsh returned, he tended his black stallion, then went for a soothing swim in the river nearby.
After joining her, he inhaled deeply and said, “That smells good.”
“Only because you didn’t have to cook it,” she teased. “I might as well confess that I’m not very good in the kitchen, if you haven’t noticed already. My mother preferred to do the cooking, so I have little training in that area. Be patient and a good teacher, and I promise to learn more. Did you see anything suspicious out there?”
“No one around for miles, partner, so you can have your coveted bath. I swear, not one peek,” he teased huskily. Mercy, how she made him more nervous every hour they spent together. He was afraid of getting her injured and slain. He was afraid of resisting her, but more afraid of yielding to her pull. She wasn’t a woman merely to enjoy physically; she was a woman who became a vital part of you, like eating and breathing. If he allowed her to get to. him, then what would happen to both of them when they parted? It would be selfish to only live for today where she was concerned. Not knowing her past, he feared saying or doing the wrong thing. If her trouble was over another man, that could determine if and how she responded to him. If he pressed and she wasn’t ready …
Randee interrupted his line of thought, “If I didn’t trust you, Marsh Logan, I wouldn’t be here tonight.”
He jested mirthfully, “Do you think that’s wise, Miss Hollis? You are the most tempting creature I’ve met to date. The only reasons I’ve kept my self-control are thoughts of losing my hand and that reward. I didn’t scare you this afternoon with my impulsive conduct, did I?”
“You, impulsive?” she taunted with a skeptical grin.
“Not in the past, but I find it happening frequently around you.”
“Is that good or bad?” she questioned, her heart pounding.
“Considering the danger we’re facing every day, probably bad.”
“Frankly, Mr. Logan, I think you’re right.”
“I was afraid you’d agree with my stupidity.”
They both laughed. She passed him his plate and said, “If it’s too bad, maybe you’ll cook every day from now on.”
“No way, woman. If you’re messing up on purpose to avoid your share of the chores, you’ll be sorry.”
“Isn’t that what you men usually do to get out of them?”
“Mercy, what kind of monster have I linked up with?” he teased.
“Challenge me, Durango, and you’ll find out.”
“Will I like what I unearth, my golden treasure?”
Randee’s smile faded, as did her joyous mood. “Will you please not use that phrase again? Nothing golden, all right?”
“It’s easier to fight a battle when you understand it, Randee. Since you can’t tell me about it yet, just tell me when I make a wrong step. Agreed?” As she nodded, Marsh saw unshed tears glistening in her green eyes as she mutely thanked him for his kindness. He smiled and said, “Somewhere along the trail you’ve had a rough time, Randee. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you.”
“So am I,” she confessed honestly, hoarsely. “Maybe you will be next time, because I don’t think my past is dead yet. Please, no jokes or compliments about golden treasures and promises, or golden hair and skin.” She licked her dry lips and revealed slowly, “Just so you can be prepared in case that Kansas trouble does locate me here, I’ll tell you all about it soon. I didn’t exactly lie to you about being pursued, because I honestly don’t believe I can be traced here—not after the false trail I left behind. Just so you won’t worry, I’m not running from the law and I didn’t steal that ten thousand dollars. My uncle hid it in the attic with me before the raid. Since it was his money, I thought it should pay for bringing his killers to justice. Please don’t ask any questions, because that’s all I can tell you tonight.” She set her plate aside and excused herself to take a bath.
Marsh retrieved the whiskey from his saddlebag and took a deep drink from the bottle. He realized this was either going to be a very long and painful night, or a very short and blissful one… .